BY DR. AGONSON
There was a song when I was young,
a melody so sweet…
Each year I long to work my tongue
to raise refrain’s repeat,
but no one taught that simple tune
to me at tender age.
Yea though I’ve sought to gain this boon,
to learn—this want assuage—
it can’t be bought for sun nor moon,
nor earned by any wage.
Perhaps I’ll die, worst still, I’ll live,
but never know again
what made me cry… My heart I’d give
to weep as I did then,
to laugh like old, so pure and true,
to hear my mother sing,
nothing withhold, like ere I grew
to feel the deadly sting,
the slow unfolding, dreadful coup
that conquered everything.
Can no one teach me what was lost?
Does no one sing it still?
Though I beseech, “At any cost!”
nothing my soul will fill.
Tale Told 